Dark Splendor (36 page)

His face brushed her cheek as he lowered her
to the fluffy mattress. Her body warmed to his touch, and a budding
tide of excitement sprang from deep within. Once more his arms
wrapped her in a consuming embrace and her breath broke into a
panting, ragged rhythm. Like a flame his mouth seared her skin with
a profusion of wild, wandering kisses. Gently his teeth nibbled at
her ear and then sped to the delectable rosy peaks of her swollen
breasts.

One hand wove into the dark coils of curls
that hung across her shoulders, the other trailed enticingly over
her smooth belly and onto the silken skin of her thighs.

Moaning, she cried out as the phantom man,
created from her dreams, carried her into his mystical world of
rapture. He held her enchanted, this godlike creature who mumbled
words of love in her ear. She wrapped him in her arms, inviting his
embrace as her skin took on a moist glow in the darkness behind the
velvet curtain.

Silvia closed her eyes, breathless as she
felt the hard, manly boldness of him pressing against her. Lightly
her lips sought the warm skin at his throat and traveled hungrily
to his mouth. Her tongue traced the curve of his lips and slipped
hesitantly into the sweet cavern there. Moaning, he matched her
ardor and multiplied it with a savage slant of his mouth across
hers.

Silvia’s fingers laced together briefly
behind his back. She trembled, feeling a well of giddiness rising
from the center of her being. Was it possible to feel such a burst
of ecstasy, to be loved by a man who was not of this world?

His hand wandered from her thigh, plying
that most sensitive part of her with gentle, probing strokes.
Passion flared, a raging tempest within him, and the desire he felt
could not be held much longer. He rose to his knees, nudging her
legs apart with a gentle push.

“Silvia,” he whispered tenderly. “Do you
know and love me?” He moved over her, his eyes glowing with the
fire of passion, his chest gleaming in the ruby light.

“Aye,” she whispered, her hands moving
instinctively to his hips. “That I do.”

He came to her then in a single bold thrust
that took her breath as their bodies rocked together, sealing them
in a bond of dark splendor. Her eyes widened and she knew him then
as if she had always known him. With a surge of passion she moved
her hips to meet his, her pleasure mounting quickly to a frantic,
fevered level of tempestuous delight. It was an endless ecstasy, a
rapturous race to the pinnacles of happiness.

They soared together, caught the clouds, and
saw the stars explode into a million rays of shooting light. It
seemed to Silvia that she had reached another plane of life and
would never again return to that world from which she had come.

A long moment passed before she had strength
to open her eyes, and even then she could barely see beneath her
drooping lids. Her head lay heavily on the pillow. The weight of
his body had left her, but she felt its magical warmth still beside
her. Her lips moved, forming words of love in a voice as fleeting
as her wakefulness.

“Sleep now, my sweet.” She heard his rich,
loving whisper lulling her into a dream. His arms wrapped her like
a warm cocoon, his fingers idly drawing circles upon her back.

Smiling to himself, he smoothed the tangles
from her hair and pulled a sheet over her flushed body, watching as
the satin molded to her alluring curves, its luster dimmed beside
that of her skin. He envied its closeness to that sweet flesh and
soft warm body as the heady lavender scent of her perfume filled
the air. Breathing deeply of it, he sighed contentedly and dropped
down beside her.

Hours passed while they slept. Silvia woke
first with a start, confused by the strangeness of her
surroundings, thinking she was caught up in one of her haunting
dreams. But he lay there beside her, the golden man who had claimed
her, his breathing deep and slow, a smile resting gently upon his
lips. Smiling softly, Silvia bent to kiss his throat and slipped
from her finger the small gold band that had belonged to her
mother.

Gently taking up his hand, she placed the
ring on his finger. A moment later she lay back to nestle in the
curve of his arm, her eyes again closed in sleep.

The first thing Silvia was aware of when she
awoke a second time was that she had been wrong about the
pregnancy. There would be no child in the spring. It was a
realization that brought her a mixture of joy and sadness.

Her mistake had undoubtedly been due to
nervousness and the strain of her situation. She knew such a thing
could happen to women who desperately wanted a child. Possibly the
same condition could inflict itself on a woman afraid of
conceiving.

Her second awareness was that it was midday
and she was alone, as she had expected, in her own bed, wearing her
own gown. That pagodaed bed with rosy velvet curtains was only a
misty, dreamlike memory. Her eyes sparkled like crystals. The dream
would sustain her through much disaster.

She gazed about the room. The fleecy robe
she had worn the night before lay folded neatly over the stool of
her dressing table. At the sight of it, a smile set delightfully on
Silvia’s lips, and she suddenly felt lighthearted and gay, although
she knew she still ought to feel grim the day after her husband’s
funeral.

But her merriment was far too pleasant. She
even gave a light chuckle as she slowly sat up and plumped her
pillows against the head of the bed. A most wondrous and real dream
it had been. Silvia settled back, huddling her legs to her chest
and stretching her arms out wide. Nothing could dim the secret
happiness in her heart. Absently she raked the tousled hair from
her eyes and sighed.

Moments later, she tossed the covers
carelessly aside and went to the dressing room to attend to her
feminine needs. She realized then that at least part of her dream
had been quite real.

Though the sun was high in the sky and
beamed its bright light through the open windows, she returned to
the cozy warmth of her bed. She smoothed out the coverlet, and in
doing so disturbed an object at the footboard.

“Nooo,” she cried, in disbelief.

One trembling hand held a crumbling red
rose, long dead, its petals blackened and dry. Another was wrapped
about a small clay doll very evidently made in her likeness. The
features were plainly recognizable, and if they had not been, there
was no mistaking the bit of curling black hair that had been
painstakingly pressed into the little head when the clay was
wet.

Willy’s doll. He had made dozens of them,
but she had never seen this one of her. He must have kept it
hidden. So he had been the one to come to her room and cut the lock
of her hair. And he had left the rose as a gift. Silvia realized
she had been right—Willy had wandered unattended through the castle
at will. Vivien had not succeeded in keeping him locked up. Or
could someone have aided him in his midnight walks?

Silvia twisted her hands nervously. She had
told only Roman that she believed Willy had been murdered. Willy’s
murderer had obviously left these two items as a warning against
her interfering. But who? Vivien? Roman?

Silvia could make no sense of it, and
clearly her ghostly lover could not protect her. A sudden,
suffocating heaviness, as if the walls of the castle were tumbling
in, closed over her. Had he been the one to leave the doll and the
rose? Was it he who meant to harm her?

Silvia dressed without Anna. She wanted to
hurry downstairs and tell everyone that she planned to leave on the
next ship that docked. There was nothing to keep her here anymore
and everything told her to leave. What did it matter to her to know
the terms of Wilhelm’s will? How could she possibly hope to match
her wits against someone who knew her every move? Her fears driving
her on, she darted through her door in a near run.

“Silvia, wait.” Roman caught her shoulder
before she was fully in the hall. “We have matters to discuss
before you go down.” His grip was painfully strong on her arm.
“Come back inside.”

She hesitated. Did she dare to be alone with
him? Before she could decide, he had ushered her into the sitting
room and shut the door.

“What is it you want?” she choked out.

He led her to the love seat and gently
nudged her to its fat cushions. A moment later he was sitting
beside her, holding both her hands in an agitated grasp.

His face was drawn, and his eyes darted
about anxiously. The tight press of his fingers was beginning to
stop the flow of blood in her hands, and noting her distress, Roman
eased his grip.

“I believe what you said about Willy’s
death. That it was not accidental.”

“Do you?”

“I know there’s little reason you should
trust me, but I believe your life is in danger as well.” His
burning eyes caused her composure to slip as they compelled her to
meet his gaze. “Silvia, someone intends to kill you.”

“You’re sure of this?” she questioned
softly, turning her face from him. If only she could believe he had
no part in it.

“Yes, by God,” he ranted. “Sure enough to
know you must leave the island.”

“I intend to leave.”

He squeezed her hands tightly.

“A ship will dock in a few days, then follow
the southward route to the Indies. I can get you aboard secretly.
Given time, I believe I can discover the killer, but until I do,
you and the child are not safe.”

“The child?”

“Willy’s child.”

“Roman, I want to explain—”

“No,” he interrupted. “It isn’t necessary to
explain. And don’t dare mention the child to anyone else. The
knowledge that a Schlange heir is expected would render your life
worthless.”

“Roman, I must tell you—”

“Please, say no more. When the killer is
caught, I’ll send word for you to return. But for now, until the
ship docks, I want you to stay in your room. Pretend to be ill or
otherwise distressed. Keep Anna with you. Trust no one else.”

“And you?”

“I’ll stay away. I wouldn’t want to draw
more attention to you. And there are things to be done before the
ship docks.”

“But Roman...Silvia protested.

“You must trust me in this, Silvia.”

“Must I?”

“Yes. You must.”

She trusted him. Perhaps unwisely. Or
perhaps because there was little else she could do. She would not
admit even to herself that deep in her heart she still held a
secret longing to hear Roman proclaim his love for her.

It was easy enough to plead illness and
distress following Willy’s death. And saying she did not wish to be
alone, she had a cot made up for Anna in the dressing room. But as
the days dragged on, she grew weary of the solitude, and a new
thought, like a seed sprouting in the barren soil of a craggy
cliff, began to grow in her head.

If she were to leave, the killer might never
be found. It was left to her to expose Willy’s murderer. With
Roman’s help, she knew how it could be done.

***

“Good morning,” she said gaily, entering the
drawing room, where Eric and Martha sat engaged in heated
conversation with Morgan and Roman.

With deliberation she had selected the
richest gown in her wardrobe, a shirred moire silk of deep blue
with a décolletage that brought a gasp from each of the men. The
daring gown was ruffled in yards of delicate lace woven through
with gold threads and hung so low on her shoulders it seemed any
moment she would be exposed to the waist. Her cheeks here pinched
to a ruddy red and she had told Anna to fashion her hair in a
particularly frivolous style. Curls cascaded flirtatiously over her
shoulders and winked temptingly at her temples.

“Should you be downstairs?” Martha blurted
out quickly, giving a tight smile as her hand brushed the skirt of
her own chaste dress.

Morgan dashed to her side and Silvia watched
with a high degree of interest as the color drained from Eric’s
face. In Roman’s eyes she saw a sudden raw fury.

“I’m feeling fit as a fiddle,” she
chirped.

“Anna said you were extremely weak,” Martha
went on in her soft voice. “I am pleased to see you have recovered
so quickly.”

“And so I have.” Silvia smiled. “But a quick
recovery is not so unusual for someone in my condition.” She
carried a black enamel fan, and spreading it open, fanned lightly.
Momentarily the fanning stopped and her little chin went up. “Have
I interrupted you?”

“No, no,” Eric said abruptly. “We were
discussing business, the mill and the shipments for the
New
Star
. But we shan’t bother you with it.”

“No?” Silvia asked briefly, her brows
arching sharply. “I expect you’ll be consulting me for all matters
of business soon.” She snapped her fan shut. “It will all be mine,
of course, when the will is read. The entire estate will belong to
me and the child I carry, Willy’s child, grandchild to Wilhelm
Schlange.”

Her eyes coyly marked the expressions her
words drew.

“A child,” Martha whispered, her lips
quivering almost imperceptibly. “Why, that’s wonderful news,” she
continued. “Are you certain you should be up?”

“I am perfectly sound.” She nodded. “I
think, in fact, I’ll take a stroll in the garden. I’ve missed the
roses and the fresh air.”

She spun on her heels to leave, and glided
out the door before anyone could speak again. Just out of sight,
Silvia paused and heard the din of excited voices start up. She
leaned against the wall for support, her hand pressed against her
breast. Her breathing had the rhythm of a wind-whipped sheet and
her heart pounded as if it would explode.

A short while later Silvia hurried on to the
garden. If she were right, someone would soon seek her out.

“Are you mad?” His voice was surly and dry.
Roman snatched her around by the shoulders. You won’t last the
night after that news. Don’t you know, woman, the killer could be
anyone, even me?”